Banana
by kidscanfly
Summary: Arthur doesn't like bars too much. Arthur doesn't like drinking. Arthur certainly doesn't like Eames. He gets all three. Suggested, hinted and implied Arthur x Ariadne.


Another day of hard work. Another day of worry and indescribable headache. The day had proved to be especially rough and tumble during their testing of the sedative, and Arthur had literally come away with bumps on his head.

As a half-hearted apology, Eames' offered to buy him a drink to wash away the concussion.

He didn't understand Eames' sometimes. He always went out of his way to be ruthless and uncaring towards the point man, but there were also those times where he gave you the assumption that he somewhat had a conscience. Sometimes. Overall, he didn't like the Forger. He'd known him almost as long as Cobb, and he always managed to grate at Arthur's nerves.

But tonight, they were drinking. Well, more like Eames' was, and Arthur sat on the barstool fiddling with his straw after a couple of sips. He preferred not to drink alcohol. He wouldn't mind if it were a polite situation, but this was rather informal and suspicious. Eames' ordered his second refill, before turning to Arthur in a way that one might mistake for a bully on a playground. There wasn't much of a difference.

"So how's it coming on with Miss Ariadne?"

Arthur shrugged, twirling his straw between his thumb and index finger. "She's doing alright, getting the hang of everything. Her mazes and labyrinths need a bit more improvision, but she's working hard on it." He turned to his colleague, who looked displeased with the Point Man's answer. Arthur turned back toward his drink, not really caring what Eames' thought. The older man stretched. "And you haven't tapped that yet?"

Arthur made a face. "You're disgusting, man,"

"Come on!" Eames' barked at him, his smile faltering slightly, "When's the last time you had a proper lay? Or a date?"

"Could you at least try to have more respect for your coworkers? She's barely out of college. Practically a child." Arthur insulted into his bloody mary. It was hard enough enjoying this lapse in work time with the Eames at his side, but in his ear? Pure torture. Eames was looking at him as if to say he knew that wasn't what he REALLY thought of her, but he wasn't going to give his snide and cocky teammate the satisfaction of knowing anything.

"You know what I think about Ariadne?" asked the Forger with a cheshire smile. Arthur held his silence, ignoring him, but that did nothing to prevent his mouth from opening. "I think," he said, voice lowering to an almost gentle, caring tone, "She's more prepared for this job than either of us."

Arthur scrunched his eyebrows. He was listening. Eames continued.

"She's young, curious and full of creative ideas. She has no emotional baggage, like poor Dominick, has no shady past or continuingly disruptive bad habits. She probably grew up with both parents who supported her and all that such. She is probably the only one on this team who I would fully trust."

Arthur snorted at that last statement, despite the fact that Eames had a point. The forger turned to him in a scrutinizing way, and said seriously, "There's nothing wrong with taking advantage of something that falls right in your lap. It's only logical. I don't care about any of you people, really."

"Well color me surprised…" came Arthur's drawling sarcasm, but Eames' held up a finger.

"I just think it's high time someone cracked you open and peeled you apart like a banana."

Arthur glared at him. He got the point; Eames wasn't exactly a subtle kind of person. He stood from the bar, dropping his money on the counter before heading out the door without him, ignoring the Forger's calls and poorly restrained laughter. He was going to go home and roll around on his bed until his headache had cleared. But Eames had done what he'd intended: he had planted an idea in Arthur's mind, and it was beginning to eat at him, festering like a virus into the crevices of his brain. And the haughty bastard hadn't even needed to use a sedative, dammit.


End file.
